Hello, world! This blog began on September 28, 2007, and so far nobody has come looking for me with tar and feathers.
On my honor, I will do my best not to bore you. All comments are welcome as long as your discourse is civil and your language is not blue.

Happy reading, and come back often!

Copyright 2007 - 2016 by Robert H. Brague

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us (in more ways than one)

I dislike “The Little Drummer Boy” (advocates salvation by works) and “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” (doesn't mention Bethlehem in 6 B.C. even once) and the barking dogs version of “Jingle Bells” (links general non-religious midwinter activities with University of Georgia football fans everywhere), but I especially abhor renditions of “O Holy Night” by the untalented. This one, however, is a definite put-on and had me laughing so hard I had tears rolling down my face. But it could have been real. That is the really scary part. Only later did it occur to me that enjoying it so much might be sacrilegious.

In case you too are wondering, I have installed lightning rods over my little portion of Blogland.

15 comments:

There is no biblical injunction to celebrate Christmas and it wasn't even considered until about 800AD. This dreadful cacophany, alongside all the other garbage that appears at this time of year, is probably part of the reason as to why it wasn't deemed important!!! xx

Frances, if you are wondering aloud (as it were) to Putz how we "met up," it was all Dr. FTSE's fault and his blogpost about writing a qwerty. Remember? If you are wondering why we "met up," though, I'm afraid I can be of no help. Who know why anything happens, really? It just happens. I am wondering now whether "met up" and "met" are the same thing, and whether two people can really be said either to have "met" or "met up" simply by having exchanged pleasantries in print in cyberspace. But I am happy to have made or made up (pick one) your acquaintance nonetheless.

we met up because like twins we had so much in common, you and me both falling on our heads when we were 4 or younger, you with that coat and me wearing a navy coat when we were toddlers, you being a bit techeced in the head,because of your fall, me being really teached n the head by my fall near the airport, you being born, and me being born each near to being 70 years old, you talking about christmas so early, and me and caroline just loving christmas, and mentioning it in october, on and on and on and on

Putz, I am not "tetched" in the head because of that fall; I would have been "tetched" in the head even if I had never fallen. Put that in your pipe, but don't smoke it, because you are Mormon, of course (even though Hindu is your self-proclaimed preferred religion)....

and on and on and on and on, bob is a grate christian and i believe that jesus christ is a saviour to the whloe world which might make me a radical cultist, bob who rhymes enjhoys the mormon tab choir and i occassionally drink tab, bob rhymes with sob and i rhyme with klutz, i know what a run on sentance ,,,is, and bob knows when a sentance makes a home run

Dear Mr Brague,The lightning rods should have been approved by the Blogland Planning Authority but we have graciously decided to allow the rods to remain in situ. Any other major alterations to your designer chalet will require approval in future.Yours,A. Putz(Chief of Planning)

A. As this comment thread has grown, the comments have had less and less to do with the post. Brethren (and cistern), these things ought not to be.

B. Just as it isn't nice to fool Mother Nature, it isn't nice to fool blog readers either. When one commenter pretends to be another commenter it may be considered "harmless fun" by some, but to most of us it is considered "deception" on our best days, "identify theft" on our good days, and "downright fraud" on our bad days. Therefore, let it be shouted from the housetops that the comment immediately preceding this one (the one purporting to be from A. Putz, Chief of Planning) is actually from a certain Y. Pudding of Sheffield, Yorkshire, England, who should know better.

My Other Blog Is A Rolls-Royce

About me

has lived on earth for 75 years and has been married for 53 of those years to Ellie, his wife. They have two sons, one daughter, the appropriate assortment of in-laws, and six absolutely magnificent grandchildren. He enjoys reading, playing the piano, driving in the country, sitting by the ocean, watching birds fly, gazing into a roaring fire, holding his wife's hand, and spending time with his grandchildren. He doesn't like doing yard work, walking a dog who definitely is not in the mood, or cleaning up after one who is (RIP Jethro, 2004-2013).

Me, circa 1943

A few months before this photograph was taken, I fell through a hole in a chain link fence in New York City and landed on my head on a school’s cement playground that was six feet below sidewalk level. I had a brain concussion. Some people think this helps explain why I am the way I am today. Other people insist nothing can explain why I am the way I am today.

Poem by a Yorkshire Lad

Song for Lost Youth

Perhaps I should have cradled it
Like a dove
Kept it safe with tender love
But I squandered it -
Gushing-blundering-raging
Like a wild mountain stream
Desperate for an ocean
That was but a distant dream.
...I just never thought
That I could have loitered in the shallows
Reflecting the blueness of the sky
- Concealing silver fishes
- Quietly biding my time
- Stretching it out.
And so, and so it's gone now
- My ephemeral youth
- That precious once only gift
- That honeyed sweetness,
Leaving only the trembling resonance
Of distant echoes
From half-remembered hills.

(Neil Theasby, 2013. Used by permission.)

Me, circa 2010 (with Mrs. RWP)

A reader in Oregon has requested a current photograph. For the thick of skull, I want to say that I am not exceedingly tall nor is Mrs. RWP exceedingly short. She is sitting in a chair; I am standing behind her and slightly to her right, your left. I am nothing if not thorough. Handsome and thorough. Exceedingly intelligent, very handsome, and thorough. I forgot humble.